by Nan Comargue
“She’ll come,” said Caleb, leaning against the brick wall next to the private entrance. Just a few meters away, a long line of eager clubgoers snaked its way down the street, passing other less in demand, venues. But everyone wanted to come here. This was where the immortals played and everyone who wasn’t an immortal wanted to be one.
Caleb tilted his head back against the wall. The light above him turned his hair into a silver helmet and his features into cast steel.
It was all right for him, Mark thought, since he didn’t feel the cold. None of the vamps did. But his own rich werewolf blood was more sensitive.
“Did you feel it in that office? That hunger? That power?”
Mark quit his stamping. He was surprised that his friend would ask. He and Caleb were those closest of creatures, turned on the same night. It was a bond that surpassed any he’d ever felt to his human brothers, when he’d been a mere mortal.
“I felt it all right.” He grimaced. “The question is, did she feel it?”
Caleb smiled. “She felt it.”
“If she did, she didn’t show it.”
“She was confused by its power. Many humans are.”
Mark ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t understand it. It’s madness. I still think it’s just vampire folklore. God knows there’s enough of that shit.”
“It’s real,” Caleb said, speaking patiently as if this was a lesson he’d given many times before. And he had. Ever since he sat at the feet of the one who made them and absorbed all there was to know of their kind.
Mark wasn’t a believer. Many weren’t. They were the ones doomed to spend eternity in ignorance, searching for what they didn’t even know existed.
Their one true mate.
It was the lack of belief in the old ways that made the immortals’ divorce rate so high. Something drove them to couple and try to live together, even to fall in love, but these efforts were all in vain unless they truly knew what they searched for—unless they followed the signs, unless they listened to the teachings.
Caleb had done both, following a solitary path Mark scoffed at. And Caleb had let him scoff—until he’d found out that ones such as they, a vampire and werewolf bitten on the same day, were bound to follow a single mate through eternity.
“If she exists, why didn’t we find her before?” Mark demanded. “You’ve been searching for decades.”
“Only two decades,” Caleb reminded him. “And technology has advanced in those years. No one can stay hidden for long anymore. Besides, twenty years ago, she was only twelve years old.”
Mark’s grin flashed out in the dark night. “Twenty years ago, you were chasing demonic pussy. Or was that your minor goddess phase?”
“At least I was trying something different,” Caleb shot back. “Unlike you, a series of one-night stands with brainless beauties doesn’t do it for me.”
Mark examined his fingernails. They were getting long and ragged again, a sight that disgusted him. Some werewolves preferred to keep their hair and nails long as a sign of their true natures, but he liked the old way. Hiding from the world. Changing in secret.
“What part turns you off? The beauty or the lack of brain? Because your women aren’t exactly easy on the eyes, are they?”
Caleb turned away. “I look deeper than the skin.”
“Sometimes,” Mark conceded. It wasn’t as if his friend was incapable of attracting the odd good-looker. It was just, for some reason, that he tried hard not to. “But you didn’t shy away this time, did you?”
The mocking questions seemed to find their target. When Caleb looked back at him, his pale eyes were glowing with tiny red pinpoints. Caleb’s angry. No, it’s more than anger. This is to do with a mate. It’s rage—pure and simple.
It took a lot to get Caleb to that point but when he got there…
Mark threw up his hands, palms outwards. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t be teasing you.”
Caleb didn’t respond, just kept staring at him with those angry, hungry eyes, as if he meant to feed on him out of hatred rather than love. As if he could feed off him, which he couldn’t—not unless he wanted to make himself sick.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, more quietly this time. “I was out of line.”
“It’s your future too,” Caleb finally said.
What future? Mark almost asked. As far as he was concerned, Caleb just hadn’t gotten it yet. An immortal’s life was an animal life. There was no meaning, just action. They existed only to fill their needs, to enjoy and to feed. There was no true mate. There were only fucks.
This lawyer was worth a fuck. Heck, she was worth a couple of them, but that was all. The sex would end the way it always did…with a short and sharp goodbye. He didn’t have any illusions. Why the hell can’t Caleb see reality?
* * * *
Delia’s head was spinning but it wasn’t from the loud pulsing music, the surging crowd or even the bloodwine she’d drank far too much of. It was the company.
For the past two hours, Mark and Caleb hadn’t left her side. They’d pressed the drink on her and watched as she’d drunk down the thick, sweet nectar. They’d taken her to the private owner’s lounge where the music had become background rather than being aggressively upfront. She could look down at the crowd below, dancing and kissing and even fucking in dimly lit corners and feel a part of it. The energy found its way inside her, making her hot and restless.
She lifted her hair from where it clung to the back of her neck and felt Caleb’s lips replace it.
She smiled to herself.
He’d been doing that a lot tonight. What had started with a guiding hand at the small of her back as they’d made their way through the crowd had turned into an arm draped across her shoulders then the press of his hips against her ass as she’d leaned over the low balcony to look at the dance floor. The kisses were the best. Cool and fleeting, like a short mist of rain to quiet the worst of the fire within her.
But it wasn’t enough—not to put out the fire or to douse the flame that was licking its way up the inside of her thighs, moistening her pussy with anticipation.
She’d shed her stockings in the washroom, along with the suit jacket she’d armored herself in. Wearing her work clothes was a conscious decision, meant to put some distance between her and the two men. They were, after all, clients of her firm.
Her resolve had lasted about ten minutes. Once the music had gotten into her head with its aching pounding beats and the heat from the hundreds of bodies had seeped under her clothes, there had been no choice but to strip off what clothes she could and sway along to it. Her sleeveless silk blouse and dark gray pencil skirt were still incongruous but with her hair down and a few glasses of the sweet but spicy burn of the bloodwine in her, Delia had stopped caring.
“Come into the back rooms with us,” Caleb shouted over the noise.
She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.
The back rooms, where her father had always warned her not to go. But that was a decade ago when the vampire clubs were still dangerous, secretive places. Now she saw as many mortals as vampires on the dance floor. The coppery smell of blood tinged the air, mingling with the musky odor of sweat.
Caleb took her hand and led her through the maze of hallways that hid behind the seemingly normal club. Behind her she could feel Mark crowding her back but he didn’t touch her, not the way Caleb did.
The hallways gave way to cell-like rooms, some with tightly locked doors, some left ajar as if to beckon company.
The music was only a hum now. Silence started to creep in. Grunting came from one or two rooms they passed as did the high whistle of a whip falling. In one, a woman screamed long and loud before a hand pushed the door completely closed and the scream cut off as abruptly as though a knife had passed through it.
Delia slowed her pace. Soon Caleb was almost pulling her onward.
“These rooms are for the tourists,” Mark said from behind her.
She turned to look back over her shoulder. His expression was strangely solemn.
“The tourists?”
“The humans who want to be close enough to see a werewolf or vampire,” he explained, “but not close enough to touch them.”
“It’s just like any other sex club out here,” Caleb added with a reassuring smile.
Delia nodded, not about to tell them that she’d never been in a sex club. The dark fantasies she engaged in were fueled solely by the Internet—and her own imagination.
Suddenly she didn’t know if she wanted to see what the reality was. It was safe behind a computer screen. Her time with Daniel had taught her to prefer the safety of virtual distance.
But it was too late to withdraw. They’d passed through a set of heavy black double doors into an area that seemed completely set apart from the club they’d left. Two massive bodyguards nodded at Caleb and didn’t even glance at her as she passed through.
The hallway they entered was wide and brightly lit. The walls were covered with a dull fabric. Velvet? Delia had the urge to reach out and touch but she didn’t. She was afraid that her hand would sink right through.
The only music was the delicate gossamer lilt of an orchestra, the notes slightly scratchy, as if the recording was preserved on vinyl.
The atmosphere was unreal, like stepping back in time. Yet, at the same time, it felt ageless, like the men who surrounded her. Away from the thick air of the club, she could smell their bodies. It wasn’t sweat. It was something sweeter, colder and infinitely more dangerous.
Caleb led them to a large room festooned with dark swathes of cloth so that it resembled a sultan’s cave—an evil sultan.
They were barely inside when Caleb took her into his arms and started kissing her. They were nothing like the kisses they’d shared in the club. These were long hard dragging kisses where time unfurled before them, spreading its enormous wings over their heads.
His tongue was long and agile. He explored the depths of her mouth with expert care, and she responded generously, tilting her head to give him complete access.
Beside them Mark shifted restlessly and finally she broke the kiss and turned to him with blind need. He was a part of this just as much as Caleb. Already she thought of them as together. Inseparable.
Mark’s mouth tasted dark and smoky, and she drew on his tongue, remembering the few teenaged exploits she’d managed to experience—a day spent skipping school, a stolen cigarette.
He tasted like rebellion while Caleb was the more stable of the two. But they both made her burn inside.
Mark’s erection pressed against her. Her nipples poked through her thin blouse. They ached.
As if reading her mind, Mark reached down to cup her breasts, squeezing them firmly in his palms. The friction from his slightly rough hand did nothing to ease the ache. It only made her need fiercer.
Her pussy was already throbbing, but the heat wasn’t just there. It spread deeper, touching her butt with pulsing tendrils.
Two of them.
Only one of her.
The math suddenly made sense.
Mark’s kisses pushed her gently backward toward a wide, low ottoman that dominated the center of the room. When the back of her legs hit it, she followed the momentum and lowered her bottom on it. She pulled Mark with her and felt him grin against her mouth as he followed her willingly. Was he surprised by her audacity? Somehow, Delia had a lot of it tonight.
These were one time clients, her mind was telling her. She would never have to see either of them again. The ghost of Daniel Carton rose up and she shoved it away. This time was for her. This time there would be no repercussions.
Mark was on his knees, planted on either side of her hips, while she reclined on the soft yet firm cushioning. He had to bend his head to kiss her, rough kisses that shredded what was left of her inhibitions.
Somehow Caleb was behind her, his lips fastened on her neck, nibbling without breaking the skin. She let her head fall to the side to allow him better access, causing Mark to tilt his head too to continue sucking on her swollen lips.
Being sandwiched between the two males made Delia feel cherished and protected in a way she had never felt before. Yet she knew that they were dangerous and she loved that dark thrill too. The warring emotions heightened every other sensation.
She wanted more.
Before long, she was scrabbling at Mark’s trousers, pulling away the black material from where it hugged his erection.
Delia sighed when his cock sprang free from its nest of thick, dark hair. She couldn’t resist feeling it with the tips of her fingers, reveling in the coolness of the ridged length, before she nudged it with her cheek and chin, her eyes closing in pleasure.
It had been such a long time and the men she’d been with in the meantime now seemed like they had all been mannequins. This was the real thing.
Mark grunted his approval as she finally took the velvet head of his cock between her lips, forming an ‘O’ around it. She drew it into her mouth just a little, just enough for him to feel the heat of her, before she let it pop out again into the chilling air. Then she did it again, teasing him.
Caleb was watching over her shoulder as she played with his friend’s cock and that knowledge added to her enjoyment. She wasn’t just pleasuring Mark. She was also putting on a show for Caleb. The dueling motivations doubled the incredible sensation of being with both of them.
When Caleb moved his hands to her breasts and began thumbing her nipples through her thin blouse, Delia moaned out loud. The sound passed over Mark’s dick, which hovered at her lips.
Mark pulled her to him and this time there was no holding back. His cock filled her mouth, driving past her tongue, almost to the back of her throat. But he knew when to stop as if by instinct, his hips halting before he gagged her.
Delia sucked frantically now, lost in the novelty of being the center of both of their attention. Behind her, Caleb’s cock was an iron-hard distraction, as were his busy fingers that had now found their way under her blouse. His rough hands abraded her stiff nipples as he tugged relentlessly, alternately squeezing them until the pleasure bordered deliciously on pain.
Then there was pain as he bit down on her neck, drawing directly from the rich hot blood that pumped through her veins. He lacked Daniel’s grace and delicacy but this was also wilder, more carnal somehow.
The smell of copper stung the air. The scent seemed to whip Mark up into a frenzy. Without ceremony, he withdrew his cock from her lips. Then he hauled her up into his arms and flipped her onto her front so that her butt was in the air.
One moment she’d been decently covered by her tight skirt and the next her skirt was more like a belt and her bare ass exposed.
Their positions were reversed. Now Mark pushed against her back while Caleb was in front of her, his fangs glistening. She murmured as she went back into his arms and he renewed his suckling from the cut he’d opened.
She held onto Caleb while Mark entered her pussy from behind, his cock stretching her moist hole wide.
It was so cold—and so good.
He took it slowly, giving her time to get accustomed to his girth. Delia wriggled her butt against him, savoring the sensation. It was like riding the world’s hardest popsicle and her pussy creamed around it, clenching and unclenching in an involuntary rhythm that seemed to meet Mark’s approval, if his deep-throated groans were any indication.
Caleb made his own satisfied sounds more quietly against her skin as he fed from her.
An almost forgotten dizziness took hold of her, making the entire night fuzzy and unreal. She was no longer Delia Darker, staid prematurely old lawyer, but an animal fucking in the anonymous night. Giving into her pleasures. Wallowing in her primal needs.
Mark grabbed her hips and pulled her ass more firmly against him, reminding her who was in control. Delia yielded to him, winding one slim arm around him while she tightened the other around Caleb’s neck.
&nbs
p; Mark started the ancient withdrawal and thrust, just a few inches at first, then nearly leaving her completely before he jammed his cock back into her aching hole.
God, it was good.
But God had nothing to do with what was taking place that night.
Delia arched her back, riding Mark’s cock, meeting every upward thrust with a firm downward slide so that their bodies made a faint slapping sound as they met. He was fucking her hard now, filling her cunt with every thrust.
Delia let her head loll back against him and Caleb had to move swiftly to maintain his feeding. Mark moved his head to the other side of her neck and bit down, the pain forming an electric current that shot right to her throbbing clit. Then the pain melted away, leaving that lightheaded joy that overcame everything else. This wasn’t just bodily pleasure—this was ecstasy. Heaven itself. Or somewhere like it.
Was heaven so cold?
As Mark fucked her cunt with ever more ferocity, both males fed on her blood, its power adding to their vigor. Caleb reached down between their bodies to cup her pussy. He probed the place where his friend’s cock was sliding in and out of her then moved up to her erect clit, rubbing and teasing it with his fingertip.
Delia gasped, loving the additional attention. It was exactly what she craved. Her hole filled. Her clit played with. Her life’s blood going to a good cause.
A cold splash told her that Mark had come. She hadn’t. Not yet. But it wasn’t over.
Mark withdrew, pausing long enough to kiss her hungrily on the mouth. Both men guided her over again onto her back. Now Caleb took up position between her legs, and she got a good look at his pale lavender cock before it entered her. It was thinner but longer than Mark’s and colder somehow. The iciness she craved deep within.
He lifted her hips as he twisted and slid inside her, his hips moving faster. She let her head collapse against Mark’s chest as he lifted her blouse and kneaded her breasts in time to his friend’s twisty fucks.
God! Caleb’s dick was reaching places she hadn’t even known existed inside her vagina, discovering new rivers of sensation that had previously gone untapped. He was strong like Mark—stronger than any mortal man—yet he used his strength with extraordinary restraint.